


Two Little White Crosses

by lunarknightz



Series: Death of Supermanverse [5]
Category: Smallville, Superman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death of Superman, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarknightz/pseuds/lunarknightz
Summary: A mother grieves for her two children who are no more.





	

Martha bought the little white cross at the general store. It wasn’t expensive- it easily fit within her small budget of “mad money” for the month. The wood was sturdy and durable, and the small white cross would hold up well under the intense Kansas sun.

“I’m taking a walk, Jonathan.” She announced after she brought the cross home. Jonathan was sitting in the living room, pouring over old photo albums and videotapes of Clark. Their son’s death had hit Jonathan awfully hard. His heart hadn’t been strong for years, and he’d been feeling so awful he actually accepted Pete’s offer to do the chores. He sat on the couch, often in his dream world, muttering things to Clark, their son who was no more.

Martha took the cross to a spot underneath a tree, past the far side of the barn.

In the shadow of the tree, one little white cross already stood.

The cross was for her child that had never been.

Early in her marriage to Jonathan, they’d started trying for a family. When nothing happened, they journeyed from doctor to doctor, trying as many treatments as they could afford. The problem lay with her- Martha was barren. Doctors told her that she’d never carry a child in her womb.

Many years later, she was pregnant.

It was a miracle.

Somehow, she knew it would be a little girl. They had Clark, their miracle, their son. This miracle would be their little girl. She’d have a smile like Jonathan’s, along with his curly blond hair. She’d be Martha’s best friend, and Daddy’s little girl. She’d have Clark wrapped around her little finger.

They would have named her Hudson. 

Clark’s name was Martha’s middle name, and Hudson was her middle name. It was wonderful symmetry- Clark and Hudson Kent, names that were both a little bit of Martha and a little bit of Jonathan.

As suddenly as the miracle happened, it went away.

There would be no child, no little girl named Hudson. She would not take ballet lessons or dress up like a Disney Princess. Martha would never make Hudson a prom dress, and Jonathan would never cry while walking their baby girl down the aisle.

The loss had scarred them all. It sent Clark running away, and had hurt Jonathan to his very core. 

They never talked about Hudson. She could understand why- it hurt too much.

The little white cross was Hudson’s memorial. Martha needed it…she had to remember. She couldn’t forget. 

She didn’t blame Clark, though she knew that Clark blamed himself. Clark was as much of her child as Hudson would have been…she couldn’t sacrifice the only child she’d ever have. The Lord gave miracles and the Lord took them away. Despite all his powers, Clark Kent was not a god.

Gods don’t die.

The newly purchased cross in her hand was for Clark.

They buried her baby, and she had to watch it on T.V. 

Yes, Superman was a hero, and he belonged to the world.

This cross belonged to Martha. 

Clark belonged to her- to her and to his loved ones who knew his secret.

Martha put the small white cross in the ground, in the shadow of the tree, beside its’ sister.

The cross stood for Clark- for all the hopes and dreams that had died on a street in Metropolis.

Clark would never marry Chloe, and Martha would never have a mother-son dance at the reception. Clark would never pop in spontaneously, bringing authentic piping hot Chinese food from China. Clark would never fulfil his dream of being a novelist. Martha would never get to hold a grandchild.

Martha had been strong. She’d been strong for everyone else, for Jonathan, for Chloe, for Lois, Lana, and Pete. She didn’t cry, but held those she loved as they grieved.

She couldn’t be strong anymore.

Martha broke down and sobbed, gut wrenching cries that echoed to the very corners of her soul. As her tears stopped, she collapsed on the ground beside the two little white crosses.

She cried for Hudson, the child who had never been.

She cried for Clark, the child who was no more.

She cried for her children, siblings closer in death than they had ever gotten the chance to be in life.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted March 2005


End file.
